There was always so much to see from the backseat of my parents’ automobile. I particularly loved the long, seemingly, tangled journey from Benson to any fine restaurant downtown and back again in the black of night. Like a tour of the exotic
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Simply the best advertisement in all of Omaha. February 27, 1927. The electric sink, which sounds dangerous to my ears, was “waiting now to do the dishes for you three times a day every day–as long as you live.” Mr. Cassette
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This is the third and final installment of the Curious Case of the French Fairytale Cottage. If you are joining us for the first time, please take a spell to get up to speed on our newest investigation. Believe me, reading The Curious Case of
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This installment is Part Two in an ongoing series of the mysterious French country home located in the Rockbrook Neighborhood. If you are joining us for the first time, please take some time to get up to speed on our newest investigation.
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One of the many pastimes Father and Mother of Miss Cassette encouraged while I was growing up was a love of reading in bed, right before lights out. Father of Miss Cassette would often cloister away and read during a weekend day or in the
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I have to admit it; the Mystery of 8120 Pacific was one of the most intoxicating storylines for me to trail. These are the kind of stories that we House Sleuths only dream of. This time, it was all real. Imagine my delight as different,
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Mizman loh hitraehnu. For those of us who have longed for a real deal Jewish delicatessen to open in Omaha, I’ve heard from a little bird in the know, that we are all in for a big treat. No more pining away for a deli visit back East. At long
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For a while in early high school, I began palling around with an old grade school friend of mine. Even though we were attending different schools, I was acquainted with a number of girls in her new circle from the Aksarben party days of my
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As I remember it, I was eating a hot fudge sundae with my grandmother at a local ice cream fountain. It was an odd little 1950’s leftover, the kind of fountain that doesn’t really exist any more in these parts. My grandmother would park her
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When I was a little girl I was very close with my grandparents. On treasured weekends I would spend at their house, my grandmother would allow me to do most anything. This usually involved indulging in real cream and real butter and homemade